Flood
by Arisprite
Summary: Edward washes away the rain and blood after leaving the Tucker's house. Alphonse doesn't know if Ed was washing away tears as well, but he wishes he could sob himself. Brotherhood, post episode 4.


It took a long time for Edward to move after the Colonel left. Long enough for the rain to freeze his body, and make all this limbs (artificial or otherwise) feel like they were made of lead and not steel, flesh or bone. It was cold, but Ed barely felt it anymore. He wished his emotions were as numb.

Nina was gone. That smiling girl they'd only known for a few days, who grabbed his hands and demanded that big brother play with her, she was now a tragic creature. What would her life be now? How could she live after-

Ed cut his own thoughts off. He didn't want to think about what that bastard Tucker had done. He didn't want to think about anything.

Alphonse beside him, shifted slightly. The ting of the rain against his metal body changed a little, and it was enough to rouse Ed from his daze. He looked up. The sky was dark, even though it could only be mid-morning, and there was a cold front moving in. He was soaked. His stumps ached, and the Automail was flickering with phantom pains to his steel toes and fingertips. Shivers were running through his whole body, helping neither of these things.

Slowly, Edward stood up. His limbs felt clumsy, and the aches intensified into jolts of pain all the way to the bones the ports were bolted to, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his chest.

_Nina_.

Edward forced down a lump from his throat, so he could speak.

"Come on, Al." His voice was a whisper, but Alphonse heard it, looking up. His impassive metal face somehow managed to radiate as much horror and sadness as Ed himself was feeling. "Let's go."

They slowly made their way to the barracks. Ed limped silently beside Al, his heart as heavy as the rain. Inside the room, Edward stood for a moment, as if he couldn't think what to do next. the room was the same as it had been, but something in their world had irrevocably changed. Ed would never forget about Nina and Alexander, and the way the creature begged him not to beat Tucker into a pulp. Al had grabbed his arm, had told him he'd kill him if he kept hitting him with his steel arm, and in that moment...Edward truly hadn't cared. He'd come into the military with some naïve notion that he'd never be asked to kill, that he would never do it….but tonight, he could have.

There was still blood on his glove.

Suddenly, Ed couldn't stand to be wearing it. He clumsily stripped it off, and threw it away. Then went his blood flecked red coat, and boots that had stood on the Tucker ground. His movements were slightly erratic, and he couldn't quite control the fingers on his left hand, but once he stood in just his pants, and tank top he stopped. Al was staring at him.

"Brother," Alphonse spoke for the first time since he'd told him he'd become a killer if he didn't stop. "You need to warm up, and get clean."

It was true. His flesh fingers and toes were white, and numb still, and he was still shivering and goose fleshed, even though the room had to be warm. Al stepped closer, reaching out a hand and then pulling back. Somewhere in his mind, Ed supplied the fact that Al's metal body would only leetch out the warmth he did have, but a big part of him yearned for touch, his brother's warmth and comfort. But all Al had to hug with was a cold suit of armor, and ...well, whose fault was that?

Edward cleared his throat, responding to Al's first statement, and nodded. He let Al gather up his night clothes, and shower kit, and lead him to the bathrooms. The showers were empty, thankfully. Not many people used them in the middle of the day. Ed also had the thought that Al would stop anyone from coming in anyway.

Al settled on the floor, while Edward stepped into the stall and turned the water on almost too hot. Steam started to billow, and Ed felt his body protest the abrupt change in air temperature. Knowing it would probably hurt, he stepped into the stream.

Alphonse waited outside the shower stall for far longer than Ed would usually take. Eventually, Al knew that Edward wouldn't be stepping out any time soon. He got to his feet, and knocked on the edge of the partial door (he was actually tall enough to see over it, but he didn't look out of courtesy). There was no reply except...through the noise of the water and the echoes of both the room and his helmet, he thought he could make out a small pained breath.

"Ed? Brother, I'm coming in." He eased open the latch, and pulled open the door to the inside of the small square. In the corner, still mostly under the stream of hot water, was Edward sitting curled up on the floor. The water pounded on his reddened back, and his hair hung drenched around his face. At his entrance, Ed looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and dull, but Al couldn't tell if he was crying or not. He wouldn't blame him if he was. If Al could, he would be sobbing right now.

"Oh, brother." Al murmured, and knelt down. He bent into the spray, glad to know that his metal wouldn't be cold anymore after sitting in the steamy bathroom for half an hour, and gathered Ed into a hug. They both needed one, and though his were hard and spiky, it would have to do.

His brother's ribs hitched, and he clutched the sides of the armor for a long moment. When his fingers loosened, Alphonse pulled back and looked at Ed.

"Have you washed?"

Edward shook his head. "I couldn't lift my arm."

Alphonse looked at Ed's shoulder, how it was slightly swollen around the metal port, and how Ed held it awkwardly. The rain, combined with the furious attack on Tucker had surely messed up Ed's joints. Without responding to that, Al reached for Ed's shower supplies, and pulled out the rag, soap and shampoo. His leather gauntlets were less effective at this than human hands would be, but he managed well enough, rubbing the soap into a the rag to hand to Ed, and then lathering up his brother's hair. Edward scrubbed himself limply, and let Al wash his hair for him. It reminded him of some of his earlier memories, playing in the bath together, while their mother let them soap up each other's hair. Al was careful to keep the bubbles away from Ed's eyes, like Ed had always been when they were little.

When he was rinsed and clean, Al turned off the cooling water, and helped Ed to his feet. He passed Edward the towel, and he went to step out as Ed dried himself off, but Ed spoke first.

"Sorry, Al. I know you're upset too. I just can't seem to snap out of it." His voice went a little muffled as he rubbed the towel over his hair. Alphonse shrugged, and tried to ignore the phantom pain in his hollow chest. He didn't have lungs to tighten with emotion, but the feeling was similar.

"It's alright, Brother." He murmured.

He stepped out of the stall, and let his brother get dressed in the sweats and tank top he'd brought him. Edward came out with his hair wet down his back. It needed to be combed, and his Automail still needed the more careful drying it always did after showers, but Al thought that Ed would be able to do all that himself. His arm was moving a little better, and there was slightly more life in his eyes.

Ed limped all the way back to their room, and then combed his hair and did his maintenance with only his left hand, staring into space. Al sat on his bed (though it was never slept in) and watched him idly. Eventually, Ed flopped down on his pillow, and curled into a ball, facing the window. The rain hadn't let up. The sky outside was dark as twilight.


End file.
